9 and a half days
by Ravenlaughter
Summary: A Wesker and Claire parody for the connaisseur of fine literature. Who am I kidding? This is my hopefully hilarious take on the infamous "Wesker-takes-Claire-hostage" fandom cliché that we all love and hate. Rated T...for now.
1. Prologue

**9 ½ days**

_Author's note: Alright, I know that in the past I vowed to myself and others to "never, ever post any stories here on fanfiction dot net (famous last words, eh?), but I guess I should have remembered the old saying "Never say never!". A little while ago I had this bunch of silly, goofy ideas for a RE parody sprouting in my mind during a particularly prolonged eggnog drinking session around Christmas, and I always start acting and thinking in silly ways when I'm on a sugar high. My apologies. _

_I guess reading D.C. Douglas' blog also lead my mind astray for he is a very dirty minded and goofy person. In a good way, you know. Just read his blog and you'll know what I mean. Plus, I adore his voice. Without him, Wesker would be speechless – literally. Bless him._

_Behold the many cross-references with D.C. Douglas' spoof videos of our beloved Wesker that he posted on youtube (his account name is lancebaxter for those of you willing to check it out)– I hope you've checked them both out, they're hilarious and kind of necessary for understanding some of the jokes/references in this story. There are also a few minor references to other fandoms and cartoon characters, but none of them should be too hard to understand. _

_Really clever readers might even notice some borrowed catch phrases from one of my favourite cartoons, "Dexter's lab". If you've ever watched tv and know a few of the more popular games out there, you'll know what's what anyway._

_Be warned that I'm not liable for any sickness, brain damage, death by seizure or any other health damages caused by this completely nonsensical figment of my imagination. Do not read if you're easily offended by a rude/naughty/silly sense of humour. I'm not a native speaker, so if you find any grammatical errors or typos, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix them. Read at your own discretion. Recommended dosage may vary from reader to reader. Hope you enjoy! If not, then at least you didn't have to pay for it. __Bonus!_

_It goes without saying that this story is completely AU and OOC and takes place somewhen in between the events of RE4 and RE5. Oh, and don't sue me. Or else I'll have to send you my flying lawyer monkeys! :P_

_So, here goes nothing. _

_**Disclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Capcom. But oh how I wish Wesker belonged to me._

_

* * *

_

**Prologue**

It had been one of the most work filled years that he could remember, and it was almost over since the Christmas holidays and New Year's Eve were quickly approaching. The long working hours that sometimes stretched over entire weekends were occasionally tiring - even to someone as dedicated as him (not that he would ever openly admit that). Still, all his hard work was soon going to pay off when he'd set the final gears of his plan in motion.

Little did Wesker know of what was to come and how his suffering for his two ultimate goals – creating the most destructive weapon and crushing his pesky ex-subordinate, Chris Redfield - was just about to begin.

* * *

_**Author's note: Please read, review & subscribe!**_


	2. Day 1

**Day 1**

When the chirpy _chirp chirp_ of the birds outside his window stirred him out of his wet dreams (he tended to drool a little onto the pillows in his sleep), Wesker awoke from happy fantasies about brain washing hair dye one beautiful morning.

Ever since his plans for global masturbation had been put on hold for the time being – chat roulette had beaten him to the punch in that field – Wesker's mood had taken a dive and wouldn't come up for air no matter what.

Already in bad spirits before he even had had his early morning kill, he sat up and stretched his muscles like a rubber band. They eagerly sprung back into shape with an audible _boing_.

_It can't go on like this._ These days, nothing could really cheer him up, not the occasional murder or even casual torture. There was nothing more pathetic than an evil mastermind without an equally evil agenda to match. He felt downright naked. Then he looked down and noticed he hadn't gotten dressed yet.

What was a man to do in that situation? He _had_ to do something. His thoughtful frown deepened.

_Clothes first, evil agenda later. _He rubbed his hands together gleefully.

_Oh. _He was starting to shrink down there in the cool morning breeze that flowed sweetly through the half-open window of his bedroom, and that always ended ugly for someone. _Better let it be someone else._

Determined to bring himself and his empire of gloom and doom to its former glory again, he got up and got dressed in his black outfit #17.

This was going to be his day! …or so he thought.

* * *

_Peep peep peep peep peep peep_

Claire's left hand blindly felt around for the offending noisy object. When she found it, she closed her hand around it and found the _off_ switch straightaway. Satisfied with herself, she sighed pleasantly, smiled and pressed her face deeper into her fluffy pillow that was encased in hot pink flannel printed with soft pink hearts and black Berettas.

_Peep peep peep peep peep peep_

She frowned into her pillow._ Umm…wut?_ Dozily she looked up and took a look at the item in her hand. She was greeted by the sight of her well-worn but oh-so-precious vibrator. _Oh._ Sheepishly she noticed that she had switched off her most beloved phallic object (beside her trusty gun) instead of her alarm clock. With her free hand she whacked the bothersome digital clock over the head, effectively shutting it up for good in the process.

"Morning Albie!" She grinned and gave the lucky bastard of a plastic sex toy a smacking kiss. She had come up with that name for her dildo because of its innocent white colour and its two red glowing little nubs – the _on/off_ button and the switch for _turbo mode_ - that reminded her of albino eyes.

Claire knew better than to wait for a reply, as she had learned the hard way. When she and Albie first started "dating" years back (by sheer coincidence she acquired him shortly after her first encounter with Wesker in Antarctica), she thought he was giving her the silent treatment. In truth, no one had ever bothered teaching a poor, illiterate, average vibrator like him how to make conversation, for it was a skill rarely in demand. At least when it came to Claire.

All he ever managed to utter was a low, humming, good-natured _bzzzzzzzzzz_ that had a remarkable resemblance to the sound of a cell phone on silent mode. Obviously no one had taught those pitiful bastards how to speak either.

Although Albie was hoping for another round, he remained silent. Somehow, he had a strong craving for a smoke anyway. Only pussy knew why.

Claire swung her legs out of her bed and got up, stretching extensively and yawning so big a donut would get jealous. She lazily scratched the crotch of her shorts and trudged over to the bathroom, leaving behind a tiny trail of sand as she rubbed her eyes awake.

She opened the blinds in the bathroom and started getting ready for the day by offering her mirror a toothy grin that it kindly returned – like it had any bloody choice in that matter. Her messy red hair stood at odd angles and looked like something had slept in it – _oh right,_ that "something" had been her…in a way. At times like these she couldn't help but think of her hunky friend Leon, a female's wet dream come true in the shape of a very capable government agent and born survivor.

How come he always had such damn perfect, bouncy, well-combed hair even during the most violent brawls? Why did he always have to look so relaxed, like he just spent a weekend in the most expensive spa in town being kneaded by expert hands? Nothing ever seemed to really upset him. And why did he have to have an ass that could – that, she was sure of - crack coconuts?

_Wait a minute._

Her thoughts had trailed off into dangerous territory, and while blushing a shade of red that rivaled that of her hair she reprimanded herself for thinking this way of her buddy. After all, he had saved her modest sized behind more times than she could count. Even though hers couldn't crack coconuts. _Peanuts maybe…_

One hot shower later she got dressed and thought about what she was going to do with her spare time now that she got three weeks off from work. A little Christmas shopping was in order since she hadn't bought any presents for Chris and her friends yet. She still had to buy some Christmas decoration, too. The redhead had no idea what to get for her big brother, but Claire was sure that a little trip to the mall was going to lift her spirits, empty her purse and keep her entertained for the day. _Gotta see how far I can stretch that credit card limit_, her inner voice snickered. _So the mall it is, then._

Careful not to wake Albie, she tiptoed out of her bedroom, but not before she had tucked him in safely. She had a feeling that it was going to be a very special day. Or at least, more special than any other special day.

She had no idea just how right she was.

* * *

After Wesker had called everyone in for a surprise meeting (he loved surprise meetings, they were the best!), it was decided that, in order to get back on track with his evil agenda, he would have to start working on his formerly abandoned projects again. He had a reputation to keep up, after all. To ensure that no one was going to mess with his plans this time, he would need a couple of willing hostages…just in case his plans went sour and he had to bargain with the officials.

"But where should we get them? It's not like they grow on trees or something.", Krauser threw in.

Wesker hated to admit it, but Krauser was right. Volunteering hostages were extremely hard to find these days, so it wouldn't be an easy task. He crossed his arms pensively and put a finger to his lips.

"I've got it!" called Ada. "We're gonna hit the mall – they've got fucking _everything_ these days. Besides, with the holidays just around the corner, there should be plenty of idiots out there who waited until the very last minute to buy their presents." She scrunched up her nose in disapproval. "Of course, I bought mine months ago." Ada smiled her most superior smile to date.

"So the mall it is, then." Wesker paused for a second. He had the strange feeling he had heard that once before already today, but that couldn't be. He had to be wrong. His godly self shrugged off the weird feeling that was starting to creep up his spine when he noticed that Ada was playing "little spider" with him. He slapped her playful hand away and gave her a stern look.

"Everybody be ready in 10 minutes. We'll meet downstairs in the car park."

Easier said than done. As if a starting signal had gone off, all 3 of them took off for the elevator, getting stuck in the meeting room's door when the unholy trio tried to squeeze through it all at once. Of course, Wesker won in the end and squeezed through first, leaving Ada and Krauser to stumble over each other.

"First!" Wesker cackled triumphantly. "Last one down is a lamer!"

It was the same as always – they would race each other down to the car park only to have Wesker win (he often cheated, but that was to be expected). It was truly getting frustrating sometimes.

Barely 9 minutes had passed and everyone had already gathered around Wesker's car.

"Well, it can't be helped. We're going to leave early then. Krauser, you come with me. Ada, you'll take your own car and follow us." When he opened his car door and got in, Ada and Krauser followed his example. Wesker froze.

"Ada. Out."

"Oh come on, I'll be nice, I promise!" Ada excitedly jumped up and down in her seat in the back of the car.

"I told you once, I don't want to have to break up another one of your violent thumb wars like I had to last week. I swear, sometimes the two of you are so incredibly childish!"

Wesker knew better than to ride in his car with both Ada and Krauser at the same time – they _always_ ended up fighting like cats and dogs. Especially when Ada coughed up another hair ball and Krauser ran off chasing rabbits.

"Get in your car. Now."

"Geez!" Ada stepped out of the car and shut the door grudgingly.

He started the car and shortly waited for Ada to follow them, then stepped on the accelerator for an impressive burnout. A gleeful grin formed on his face.

* * *

Half an hour later – it could have only been 30 minutes, too – all three of them reached the parking lot of the nearest mall. They stepped out of their cars, looking over to the huge building that housed dozens of shops and restaurants, waiting patiently for customers to spend their hard-earned money.

"So, what now? Should we just waltz in or…" Ada trailed off. She looked over at Wesker, and he knew what she was insinuating.

He thought long and hard since he didn't like short and limp. It only took him a split-second, not much longer, to find a solution. The wicked genius in him knew that he couldn't move undetected among mere mortals, that much was clear - he was a wanted criminal and bio-terrorist after all.

He snapped his fingers. "Jinkies!"

That was it - he just needed a good camouflage to mask his real identity! But where was a sneaky bastard like him supposed to get a cover up out of nowhere? Even his godlike powers had limits, or so he was told by Ada's bumper sticker.

"Hmm, I better hide myself somehow…wouldn't want to attract any unwanted attention." Out of the corner of his eye, he had caught a toothless elderly lady passing by winking at him, and for some reason he shuddered. Maybe he was cold.

"I've got it!" Ada claimed for the second time that day. "You need a moustache. Everybody likes a moustache!"

Wesker gave her a look. "And where the hell should I get one from now? The mall's closing soon, and it's not like I can steal one."

"Oh, that's not a problem, I always keep some spares with me! Just a sec." Ada turned around and seemed to fiddle with something hidden under her crimson dress.

"Tadaaaa!" She triumphantly pulled out a ratty looking mess of dark hair that looked like she had stashed it where she did. It was still warm, too.

_So _that's_ what she keeps down there. Interesting._ Hidden behind his shades, Wesker goggled._  
_

Krauser couldn't keep himself from snickering gleefully. "You know, they've got speciality magazines for that." He pointed at the furry monstrosity in Ada's hand that might have passed as a miniature toupee._  
_

The look on Ada's face was priceless for someone had forgotten to put a price tag on it._  
_

The former S.T.A.R.S. leader shuddered violently for the second time in a row. Inside, he was calm and relaxed for he knew that to achieve things, you sometimes had to bury your nose deeply in someone else's bush. _Nothing's for free in this world, Albert._

He decided to grin and bear it and accepted his newly acquired "moustache" with a shark smile. "Why Ada, aren't you resourceful."

She beamed all over her four cheeks.

Wesker put on his "moustache" and tried not to gag. He didn't need any glue either.

Thankfully, the "moustache" was magnetic and stayed where it had been slapped on.

Turning on his heels, he led the way to the mall's entrance. "Alright, now let's get this thing started before I change my mind!"

_Famous last words, Albert._

_

* * *

_

**_Author's note: Please read, subscribe & review!_**


	3. Day 1 continued

**9 1/2 days**

_**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Capcom. But oh how I wish Wesker belonged to me._

**Day 1 (continued)**

**

* * *

**

Contrary to what Ada had claimed, she had _not_ remembered buying her presents in time - again. Just like every year. Christmas always seemed to come out of nowhere only to whack her over her unsuspecting head and then disappear while cackling madly, before she even knew what hit her. Krauser and Wesker were no better, but they would never admit it. They were all exactly the kind of idiots that Ada had mentioned and sneered at just shortly before. So while all three of them pretended to be on the lookout for some decent, willing hostages that would fit into an average carpet and hopefully not eat too much, they were actually eyeballing the shop windows for gifts.

If they hadn't, Ada and Wesker would have noticed Claire walking past them right away, but Claire herself seemed pretty occupied with her phone while mumbling something about nuts and rhinestones...too occupied to spot the well-known face of the moustache-dispensing spy and her hostage-seeking entourage.

**

* * *

**

Claire had spent the better part of the day strolling through the mall, stopping occasionally to look at the shop windows or sip a coffee in one of the numerous small coffee shops. By the end of the day, shortly before the mall was about to close, her caffeine level had reached a new record height. She even felt kinda lightheaded - of course, since it was her, that wasn't saying much.

_Easy Claire_, she told herself. _You don't want to spaz around when Chris and Jill come over tonight._ That would have put a serious dent in her plans, for she intended to beat Jill this year in their famous annual "super-duper Christmas cookie baking contest" - she had already bought all the needed supplies and tools for that. Jill's cookies would crumble before the day was over! She snickered gleefully in her mind.

After searching through a few drugstores like a truffle pig, she had finally managed to get Jill that special african hair dye that she wanted to try out so desperately - although Claire had no idea why Jill insisted on trying a blonde shade. Somebody had to have brainwashed her friend into believing that she was a closeted blonde.

_And what's with those crazy lenses she insists on wearing lately?_...Claire had no idea what to make of it. _Next thing you know she'll start wearing shades - just like Wesker. _Now wait a minute. She stopped dead in her tracks. _Where the hell did that come from?_ She shrugged off the ridiculous thought. _Jill and Wesker, that'll be the day!_ She shook her head disbelievingly and laughed at herself.

Buying presents for Leon on the other hand had been rather easy, for she knew exactly what he liked. She had picked out a fluffy plush pedobear (his name tag read 'Luis' - _how odd!_) and a skimpy little schoolgirl outfit for herself. And Albie...well he would get a shiny new silicone cozy for Christmas, but she was pretty sure that he would like her to see him in all his prickly new glory...so what if she enjoyed his present as well? She blushed madly thinking of Albie all naked and slithery like teflon®. _Down, girl!_

Thinking of Chris, she remembered that she still hadn't found a half-decent present for him. She had only managed to get him his favourite dandruff shampoo_ (blizzard wizzard_) that was so hard to find. She had been toying with the idea of buying him a studded man-bra since he was starting to grow some serious man-boobs ever since he had taken up his new hobby - popping steroids. _What's up with that anyway? Doesn't he know it's gonna make his manly goods shrink to the size of a wrinkly raisin?_ She had no idea how Jill was putting up with it. Or whether she liked her men nutless or something. Maybe Jill had a nut allergy that she didn't know of...? She frowned.

Suddenly remembering to focus on Chris' gift again, she seriously wondered now..._studs? Rhinestones? Or something else entirely?..._

In the end she got him an ant farm.

His attention span equaled that of a nose-picking 5-year old anyway, so there was no use in getting him anything more complicated. And god knew, he seriously needed a pet besides Jill. Satisfied with her purchases, Claire fished for her cell phone in one of her bags. She was lucky because she needed no bait this time, the phone bit right away._  
_

Unfortunately for her, she never saw coming what happened next.

She was busy texting Chris that she was almost done with her christmas shopping when she noticed a really hot (if moustached) guy who looked strangely familiar walk past her out of the corner of her eye. Distracted by the welcomed sight she turned her head to take a look at this fine piece of man meat. One second, she had been trying to sneakily check out the scrummy backside of that hunky looking guy. The next thing she knew she fell into the shallow mall fountain, head first.

When Claire came back to the surface to spit out a mouthful of water along with some goldfish, the panties of her newly-bought schoolgirl outfit sat atop her head like a wet rag while one of her tinsel garlands had freed itself from the shopping bags and swam past her like some kind of rare but very exotic and glittery water snake straight out of the gayest underwater travesty show in Vegas.

_Just. Great._

She pulled herself out of the water, snagged her dripping wet belongings out of the fountain and tried to squeeze as much water out of her clothes as possible.

_Splendid. Now I need to find a toilet to dry myself off before I can go home._ She was on the look-out for the nearest one and quickly found it.

The redhead completely missed the fact that the ants had broken out of her ant farm when the glass had splintered from her fall into the fountain. Crawling out of Claire's shopping bag like escaping convicts, they eagerly spread all over the mall in search for someone to pester - someone with (hopefully) lots of orifices to explore.

Chaos was about to ensue while she dried herself off with never-ending rolls off toilet paper right next to the basin. Although she felt extremely tingly all over for some reason, she hummed happily in her blissful ignorance.

* * *

Someone had probably pushed the 'panic' button somewhere when the sheer endless army of ants was discovered - _overreaction much, anyone? _The alarm rang loudly through the mall while people ran around in panic like headless chicken. The good thing was that they all still had their heads firmly screwed on, but none of them had any idea what was going on, so they all decided to participate - you know, just in case.

When Wesker, Ada and Krauser tried to separate a few screaming, mooing customers from the rest of the flock, they noticed that they had forgotten about the most important part - the rugs! Wesker facepalmed. They had all been too busy secretly looking for presents to remember to bring a few along - or get them from the shop selling carpets. Now it was too late for that shop had already closed for the day and the stampede of customers was running straight for the exit before Wesker and his minions of doom and gloom could stop a single one of the shopping addicts.

When the last one of them had run past them, the doors swung back and forth a few times and then stood still.

"Damn it!" Wesker was furious. Almost furious enough to ruffle his hair, had it not been glued into place this morning.

"Shit!" Ada cursed. "What the hell was that all about? Some measly ants? Seriously? What's wrong with these people?" She was totally baffled.

"Looks like we're gonna have to rent some hostages then" Krauser offered weakly. "That is, if 'hostages 'R' us' are still open, I don't know what time they close."

"No. Way. No._ Fucking_. Way. I will not rent _any_ hostages dammit. I am Albert fucking Wesker, I can get my _own_ sodding hostages! I don't need to rent any, not me. You hear me?"

Wesker had directed his overflowing rage directly towards poor Krauser, who seemed to shrink at least two inches under Wesker's intense stare. Luckily for him, no one noticed since he was fully dressed. _Thank Wesker_, he secretly mused - he would never have heard the end of it had Ada spoted anything out of the ordinary.

"Fair enough, boss!" Krauser tried to pacify the tyrant, but he fiercely refused to take the binky. He had considered it for a split-second, yes, but then decided that he had outgrown that habit a while ago.

Then, as if on cue and lucky bitch that she was, Claire happened to come strolling down from the other end of the hallway, walking towards them. She had somehow managed to dry herself off even though in the end she had run out of toilet paper. At least now she felt presentable enough again to make her way home.

Happily she put in her ear plugs and switched on her mp3 player, still completely oblivious of Wesker's predicament. She was downright ecstatic that her ice cream cone had somehow survived her fall into the fountain. She silently thanked the god of brain freeze - or whichever other deity looked after frozen goods. This had to be her lucky day! She carefully lapped at the pink mess.

It was then that Wesker caught sight of her and instantly recognized her. _Oh no. Hell no_.

"Dear me...not her. _Not! Her! Anyone_ but her." Wesker muttered into his moustache.

"What's wrong?" Krauser wondered.

"It's her...that annoying little brat! Why? Why? What have I done to deserved this?"

"Umm..." Krauser looked perplexed, first at Wesker, then towards his eurasian co-villain. Clueless, he squinted at her with a lost glance. He had no idea what had gotten into their boss. _Some stray ants maybe?_ He surely hoped not. Not that he would volunteer to check._  
_

Ada rolled her eyes and then patiently explained the situation to Krauser. "Wesker and her...well, let's say they have some history, and he's not too happy about her being the only hostage available. She always has a few nasty tricks up her sleeve_."  
_

"She doesn't look so scary..." Krauser threw in. He scratched his head under the his beret, having no clue as to why Wesker would be so reluctant to abduct the young woman.

"You have no idea, do you?" Ada was shaking her head now. "But we have no choice. It's her or no one. Right, Wesker?"

Wesker surrendered and sighed obediently into his fake but becoming moustache. He would never admit it, but he was slowly growing fond of it. The moustache, not the sighing.

"Fine, whatever. Just make sure her shoes don't ruin my car seats." Lowly mumbling, he added, "I _so_ know I'm going to regret this…"

"Alright then." Krauser took off his beret, only to put it on backwards in a somewhat weak attempt at "sneaky camouflage".

Ada mirrored him and put her hairdo on backwards. _There, that should do it._ Claire would _never_ recognize her - no frickin' way.

"Ready?" Wesker threw a look over his shoulder and paused for a moment when he caught sight of Ada and Krauser. He swore these two really just had heads on their shoulders for one reason only - to prevent rain from dripping into their necks. Resigned he shook his head.

* * *

Ada had been ordered by Wesker to go find them something to "store" Claire in once they had captured her. She thought for a few seconds and then made her way into the now abandoned shop right next to them which happened to be a bag shop that carried everything from purses, handbags to suitcases - the range was so wide that she felt a bit overwhelmed at first, but then she chose a pink Hello Kitty suitcase because it looked like it could easily house an average sized hostage like Claire. Triumphantly she waved her 'okay' at Wesker and Krauser so they'd get going. She missed Wesker's annoyed eye roll.

"Alright. Let's go!" Wesker quickly lead the way towards his own doom.

Krauser and Wesker circled poor Claire from two different sides while Ada hid herself and the pink monstrosity behind a column. Wesker was ready to strike and sneaked up to Claire from behind. Krauser tiptoed towards Claire from the other side.

"So we meet again...Redfield." Wesker smugly announced.

He completely expected Claire to spin around the minute he addressed her, but no reaction came. _What? Was she ignoring him? The audacity!  
_

"Umm...excuse me?" He tipped her on her shoulder and Claire jerked, not having noticed anybody around beside herself.

"Hi err...can I help you?" she asked sheepishly and smiled unsure of what else to do.

_What the hell..._could she really be this stupid? But then he remembered his "camouflage" and cleared his throat embarrassedly. Why did he have to wear that hideous hairy thing when crossing paths with the redhead again - out of all possible times he could have run into her! _Seriously bad timing, Albert._ But it couldn't be helped.

That was the moment his soup-strainer decided it had finally had enough of this charade and refused to cooperate any further. With a resigned sigh that suspiciously sounded like "screw this!", it fell straight off Wesker's face onto the marble floor.

"Oh my god, it's you!" Claire gasped disbelievingly._  
_

"Yes, dear..." Wesker began when Claire interrupted him.

"Don't you dare say it!" Accusingly, she pointed at him with her ice cream cone as if she was going to try and stab him with the delicious waffle roll. The forward momentum of her movement had the last ball of strawberry ice cream take a suicidal plunge out of the cone and end up with a wet _splat _on the floor. Way to go, the sad pink glob of a former ice cream ball thought depressed. Then it melted away without regrets.

"Pardon me?"

"You were going to call me 'dear heart' weren't you!"

Wesker gaped at her for the tiniest moment. Quickly, he snapped his mouth shut before she was going to shove that cone in there.

"Were not!"

"Were too!"

"Were not!"

"Of course you were." Ada commented dryly. Distractedly, she readjusted her hair to its default placement.

"Nonsense!"

"Sure you were, boss!" Krauser chimed in. He greedily eyeballed the tasty pink blob of ice cream on the floor. _Should he…?_

"Were so not!"

"Sure you were!" Claire, Ada and Krauser sing-songed in perfect unison.

"Shut up you lot!" Now Wesker was clearly beside himself. Quickly he side-stepped back into his body before anybody could accuse him of being a double agent.

"I was going to say...'deary me, is it that late already'?" he mumbled somewhat embarrassedly while pulling nervously on his black leather gloves that would have made any self-respecting hitman proud.

The other three exchanged skeptical looks that loudly read "Yeah, sure!", but they remained quiet.

Before Claire even had time to react, the hapless villains had jumped on her like she was last slice of pizza at an office party and stuffed her into their portable Hello Kitty jail.

* * *

Everyone was relieved when they finally made it back home after an unnerving ride in strained silence. They had all been traveling in one car this time, for they never had resorted to taking several hostages like they had originally planned. It was clearly a miracle - and a sign that the world was going to end soon - that Krauser and Ada didn't feel like fighting at all, so the only noise had been the occasional swearing coming from the suitcase sitting between Ada and Krauser on the backseat. Claire's groceries and presents cluelessly sat in her shopping bags at Ada's feet.

The unholy trio crossed Wesker's doormat (home sweet home!) when they finally reached his secret lab complex and dumped the offending suitcase on the floor with a loud _thud_.

Wesker nodded at her, and with a determined _zip_ Ada unpacked their unwilling guest from her bright pink confinement.

Claire tumbled out of the suitcase like a drunken nerd at a comic con afterparty. Grumpily, she straightened and dusted herself off. "That's no way to treat me is it! That was totally uncalled for!" Placing her hands on her conveniently placed hips (that happened to be right where she remembered), she added "At least you could have wrapped me into a comfy rug like any decent kidnapper would do, or is that asked too much? I don't like to travel dressed up as hand baggage! I swear, you guys have no manners! Not to mention no style at all!"

Now _that_ insult he couldn't let pass - unlike the gas he'd been holding in since they'd been getting into the car at the mall's car park.

After all, silent but deadly was his motto for good reason. Wesker loudly cleared his throat in a heroic but feeble attempt at covering up his secret unwinding.

Everyone's else's faces turned a variety of shades of green before slowly returning to their respective colours. They were smart enough to pretend to not have noticed anything. It was better not to piss off a guy who could stealth-kill with a single fart.

Wesker finally glanced at Claire with a strained look on his dashing face as he slowly walked closer to our freshly un-bagged heroine.

"Okay, let's set up some ground rules. Here you answer to me. I will tell you when to drink, eat, sleep and even tell you when and how to pick your goddamn nose. Is that clear?"

Claire gulped.

Wesker's frown deepened. His deep voice took on a dangerously low tone as he leaned in even closer."Did I tell you to gulp?" Their noses were only a nose hair away from making out.

Claire's back bent even further backwards, at a seemingly impossible angle.

"N...no...?"

"Good." A relieved sigh came from his lips as he straightened and got out of her personal space.

Slowly, Claire's back bent spine sprang back into place with a small resonating _frrrrrrr_.

"Just making sure I hadn't overseen something." With a self-satisfied look on his face he adjusted his glasses and the lapels of his jacket - all 4 of them. Two of them were extra, just in case the other ones got dirty and had to be disposed of. Wesker was a well-prepared man after all.

With a knowing smile, Ada turned and left to get back to work, for she knew that someone was going to have to babysit Claire, and she certainly wasn't going to volunteer.

Krauser wasn't so smart.

"Soo...do I really have to pick my nose?" Claire was kind of embarrassed and fiddled with her fingers in her lap while looking at something extremely interesting on her shoes. "Because, you know...okay, just so you know, I, I, I have this condition, this allergy where I tend to get swollen fingers and then I could get stuck and then..."

An impatient wave of Wesker's hand cut off her ramblings.

"Enough of your babbling. I have no time to waste, work is waiting for me. I have places to be and people to kill. You will wait here until I've finished…stuff."

He beckoned Krauser who looked like he'd rather be elsewhere…like, Disneyland…or some other scary place. Anywhere but here.

"Krauser, I'll leave this task to you. You'll keep an eye on her while I finish my work at the lab. Just keep her quiet and out of my way."

And with that, Wesker turned on his heels and disappeared through the door that separated his living quarters from his lab complex.

_Oh joy_, Claire thought dimly.

Wesker really hoped that Krauser had some good nerves. He was going to need them.

* * *

**_Author's note: Please read, subscribe & review!_**


	4. Day 1 continued II

**9 1/2 days**

_**Disclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Capcom. But oh how I wish Wesker belonged to me._

**Day 1 (continued II)  


* * *

**

Krauser looked very displeased but tried to flash Claire his toothiest and most intimidating grin as he noisily pulled a stool off the wall to take a seat in front of the lab's door. The stool's rubber feet screeched loudly over the floor's surface in protest. Claire cringed inwardly for it sounded like a piece of ill-tempered chalk slowly being pulled across a blackboard, but she managed to show no sign of her discomfort.

He leaned heavily against the seat's back, crossed his ridiculously muscular arms, laid one heavily booted foot on top of his other knee and repeated the same with the other leg. Sitting in the lotus position, Krauser wasn't fazed at all when Claire glared daggers at him and crossed her arms in return, slowly sliding down to the floor with her back to the wall across from him whilst making a drawn out, squeaky, rubbery noise not unlike the one Krauser had made when dragging the stool. His grin faltered for a moment, but then his smug sneer was back in place; despite that, she felt strangely satisfied with her attempt at annoying him as much as he tried to piss her off.

The redhead sourly considered her meager options in this tense situation. She could forget about buying Christmas presents for Jill, Leon and Albie dearest for now, that much was clear. No super-duper Christmas cookie baking contest with Jill either – at least not any time soon. Not unless Wesker decided to be uncharacteristically generous and let her use his kitchen – _yeah right!_ - but that was truly out of the question at the moment.

And what about getting out of here? Scrunching up her nose deep in thought she absent-mindedly touched the tip of her nose with her nimble, flexible tongue – a mannerism that could only be seen on her on very rare occasions - such as when she had spent too much of her money on a shopping spree and needed to locate and fish for any leftover quarters or dimes stuck in between her sofa cushions.

_Alright, let's see…_

There were only 3 heroic fools who could have potentially freed her from her current imprisonment – Chris, Steve (who was much closer than she thought) and Leon.

Chris, being the loyal but dense big brother that he was, was completely oblivious of her situation, believing her to be in the safety of her comfy home, wrapped up in preparations for the holidays.

Steve Burnside was still safely stashed away inside a giant clear ice cube, like a stone-age insect frozen in time in an oversized rubik's cube of golden shimmery amber. He would remain huddled against viral samples and Petri dishes in the back of Wesker's lab refrigerator for a long time to come, right behind Excella's cucumber facial mask, Ada's supply of Brazilian wax and a couple of bottles of cold beer ("Mercenary's Delight", Krauser's favourite brand).

And Leon? Last thing she heard he was still desperately trying to track down that cheeky Ganado who stole his stylish leather jacket back in Spain. She suspected that she wouldn't be able to count on being heroically rescued by him any time soon for that reason alone; after all it had been Leon's pet jacket even though it smelled of wet dog every time it got humid , thanks to the fur trimmed collar. For years to come, Claire would always fondly think of Leon when smelling drenched puppies. She sighed dreamily.

* * *

Meanwhile, blessed with ignorance about the most recent development in Claire's life and thousands and thousands of miles away, somewhere in a forest in Spain near a now deserted small village, Leon had run into some trouble on his hunt for the thieving zombie.

He found himself camping in the ass-end of nowhere - still following the tracks of the jacket thief by his permeating scent of wet dog alone (it had been raining all day) - when he noticed that he had run out of that expensive 'mane' shampoo that made his hair so bouncy and silky. He sadly shook his head in a poor attempt at letting his full, dirty blond hair fly, but the rain had soaked him to the bone and the wet strands remained glued to his skull.

He was incredibly upset about that. What would Ada say if they crossed paths and he looked like he hadn't properly washed his hair in a while? The mere thought sent visible shivers down his spine. _Unthinkable!_

Angrily he kicked a small unsuspecting pebble away with his foot and dropped his backpack on a much larger rock by the side of the small path leading through the woods. He flopped down on the stony, uncomfortable seating right next to his bag.

_What next?_ Unsure of what to do he frowned deep in thought. Leon felt insecure and naked without his precious brand shampoo. It always left his hair so glossy and perfect that even Claire couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy every time he threw his head back to get his hair out of his face whenever they crossed paths, even if it was only to give her a better look at his green puppy dog eyes.

That was only one of the reasons why Claire adored Leon but never could keep him around for an extended period of time, for she always ended up envying him for his effortless manly beauty. He gladly would have passed along his ample knowledge on how to keep up a perfectly groomed appearance in even the most extremes of battles, but neither was Claire anywhere close to him right now, nor did he know of her secret shame – her nagging mane envy.

It was better this way. As Claire had had to learn a long time ago, his gorgeousness was best enjoyed in small doses, for it seemed to attract the attention of certain red-clad spies. Too bad that only Leon welcomed that fact.

Still, all of this didn't help solving the issue at hand._ Would he end up wearing a mullet if he couldn't find that sneaky Ganado soon and had to wander through the forests for much longer?_ He shuddered violently. _No! Not him! Never!_

Hell-bent and optimistic on finding a drugstore somewhere nearby in the middle of nowhere that would carry his most needful and beloved grooming product, he got up dusting his hands off on the sides of his snug fitting pants that displayed his buttocks in the most flattering way. Flexing his tired muscles, he finished his much needed little moping break and sighed, looking grimly ahead towards the overflowing green thicket in front of him. He _would_ find one, even if it was going to be the death of him, that much was sure.

With a determined look on his face, he marched off into the leafy maze in front of him. Too bad he had missed the oversized, blinking neon sign right behind his back that pointed towards the next drugstore which happened to be right behind the overgrown bush to his left.

* * *

Being stirred out of her blissful daydreaming by Krauser's melodic snoring in E minor, her thoughts only lingered for another split-second on the incredibly dangerous and exciting adventures her well-coiffed friend Leon was probably experiencing while she was locked away as Wesker's pawn. She sighed wistfully and got up from the floor, slipping inelegantly in the process on a small pool that had formed under Krauser's seat from the drool dribbling slowly from the corner of his mouth. She hit her head hard on the lamp protruding from the wall behind her. Krauser didn't even flinch in his sweet slumber, but Claire did while cursing in her most colorful ways to date.

Silently she wished a pumpkin sized pimple on the ass of whoever had thought that having a lamp on that wall would be a splendid idea and rubbed the back of her head. The shock of her head hitting the hard metal of the lamp had temporarily fixed the loose contact inside the lamp – and the one inside her head - and in both cases, the lights came on.

In that moment, Claire realized something. So Leon was out of the picture as well for the time being. What a drag. This time, no one was going to come to her rescue.

_Time to help yourself, Claire. You can do it! If you can survive Wesker, you can survive anything. I mean, how much worse can it get? Chris will be so proud if he finds out that I held my head high while being captured._

Yes, she was going to show them all where to stick it! Yes, there and in a few other rude places. She would prove it to Wesker, Chris, everyone.

She smiled impishly.

After all, what could go wrong?

Just about everything, as she would soon find out.

* * *

**_Author's note: Please read, subscribe & review!_**


	5. Day 1 continued III

**9 1/2 days**

_**Disclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Capcom (except Albie and Quasimodo). But oh how I wish Wesker belonged to me._

**Day 1 (continued III)**

**

* * *

**

Wesker felt as annoyed as he could only remember having felt once before - when his ambitious friend and co-worker William Birkin had taught their test subjects the "Thriller" choreography instead of doing some proper research – or at least killing a few half-decent victims. Those crazy, murderous days were nothing but a fond memory now. He sighed deeply in a rare fit of nostalgia and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He stood in his lab, brows furrowed, trying to get some more work done before the workday was over. Aside from this setback with Claire it had been a rather successful day. He only felt safe after he had ordered Krauser to keep her under control and out of earshot, outside in the lobby. It wasn't like he was hiding from Claire. No. Not at all! Still, he was glad he had locked the door behind him.

Okay, so he wasn't exactly happy with the latest path his destiny had taken.

_How did it come this far?_ He just wanted a nice, frugal hostage. Was that asked too much? The blond tyrant hadn't planned for things to go this way, it was just his dumb luck that had him pick the same exact mall that Claire had to do her Christmas shopping in. Annoyed he remembered that he hadn't even had the time to pick up some Christmas present at the mall for Quasimodo, his pet tyrant. A pair of much-needed nail clippers would have done the trick, but nooo…this whole stupid hostage situation had to get in the way.

The fact that a bunch of hyperactive ants had also picked the same exact mall and time to go on a rampage and possibly explore as many viable body parts and orifices as possible on the way hadn't helped either - it had only served to chase away any other possible hostages and left him with HER. That redheaded little devil incarnate!

This was _so_ depressing.

He had been such a good little villain this year, he certainly deserved better than that…?

In his mind, he could already see the little pest try to snoop around his lab looking for snacks or entertainment – not to mention any possible B.O.W. threats – when suddenly a low growl could be heard. Wesker looked down and noticed he had almost forgotten about Quasimodo. Absentmindedly, he patted the tyrant's ugly head. "Good boy."

When it felt satisfied enough, it curled itself back up into a fetal position and went back to sleep at Wesker's feet.

There was no use in moping over his current situation. Instead, he decided to see the positive side of things – the first step in his plan had been taken, and he could go back to his research knowing that nobody could interfere as long as he had a hold of little Miss Redfield.

Time to call it a day and give his guest her much-needed welcome…and maybe get a nice drink or two of Red Queen Vodka to boot.

He went to switch off all the lights in the lab and let Quasimodo snore a happy song.

A smug grin sneaked onto his face. He never suspected a thing and let it make itself feel at home while he steeled his nerves for the coming confrontation with his ponytailed hostage.

* * *

In the meantime, miles away at Chris' house, Jill had a serious case of sticky fingers – it wasn't her fault, it ran in the family. Sometimes she cursed her cruel fate, but this time was different.

She stood in the kitchen, preparing a small snack for herself. By accident, she had dropped her knife into the jar with peanut butter and had been trying to fish the kitchen utensil out of it, getting her fingers all messy in the process. That didn't keep her from singing along with the kitchen radio playing in the background.

"…under my umbrella, ella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh, under my umbrella, ella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…"

She licked off her tacky fingers in an incredibly sleazy manner, even though she had no audience to appreciate that performance. Wesker surely would have liked to tape it and use it later for leverage – or other, mainly scientific things - had he known, but he was absent and busy with a certain redhead at the other end of the town in his secret lab.

Finishing her nimble tongue's excursion, Jill happily hummed along the popular Rihanna song even though she had absolutely no idea why that song had popped up in her mind earlier this evening.

"Jill, where's my sandwich!"

"Probably where you left it the last time. Did you check under the couch yet?"

"Nope, hold on." She snickered to herself. Chris fell for that old trick…again! Disbelievingly, she shook her head and greedily took a hearty bite out of her sandwich.

A brief rumbling from the living room indicated that he had, in fact, lifted up the couch, looked under it and dropped it noisily back onto the floor when he found absolutely nothing but dust bunnies making out. _Maybe a little less spinach for dinner next time, _Jill reminded herself. She was trying hard to help Chris fight his addiction to the horribly tasting dark green goop that reminded her suspiciously of tyrant diarrhea in cans.

"Found it!" the BSAA officer cried overly zealous from the living room.

Yes, those sandwich seeking sessions never got old indeed. She hid them well and he always found them anyways, even though he had been told by his doctor to lay off the sandwiches Jill made, no matter how tasty they were. A bad habit he had picked up from Barry at some point…Wesker knew why.

…_now where the hell did that come from?_ She frowned and then shrugged when her frown didn't get her even an inch closer to a satisfying answer.

When Chris entered the kitchen, the bulge in his pants was very much visible. Very, very much. Jill crossed her arms impatiently. "Do you really have to store your sandwich down _there_?"

"What's wrong with that?" He dumbly looked down at his now impressive looking package and didn't get what Jill's problem was. He liked storing food in his pants. It kept it nicely warm and out of harm's way. Other people stored their smokes behind their ears, who was to say that storing a sandwich in your pants was unusual… or even unsanitary? There was no place safer than the crotch of a steroid-popping born survivor.

Jill stared accusingly at the offending bulge and asked "Haven't you had enough yet anyway?" Impatiently, she tapped her foot on the kitchen floor. Luckily, it didn't mind and enjoyed the pleasing massage.

"Nope!" He grinned sheepishly.

Every time caveman Chris had a sandwich stuffed down the front of his pants, he felt all manly and had the weirdest urges – one of them being to grab Jill by her ponytail and drag her into his bedroom. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the fact that he didn't fit through the door anymore ever since his shoulders had become so wide.

He _had_ tried greasing the door frame for a little while so he'd be able to squeeze through, but then he quickly dismissed the idea when getting the grease out of his clothes turned out to be just too bothersome and time-consuming.

This had forced him to take to sleeping on the couch in his living room ever since, while Jill had his queen-sized bed all to herself. He suspected she was madly enjoying this because one night, he had caught her madly jumping up and down on his mattress long after she had believed him to be asleep. Her shame-faced excuse had been that she wanted to shoo away any possible dust bunnies under his bed before she went to sleep, but he hadn't really been buying it.

He decided to quickly change the subject before Jill forced him to eat the sandwich on the spot – he wanted to save it for later. After all, he couldn't turn up empty-handed when he went to see Claire.

Dang it…Claire! He slapped his forehead, and Jill gave him a questioning look.

"I completely forgot that we were supposed to meet Claire for dinner. You girls were going to have your cookie bake-off tonight, right? All I've been thinking about all day is that I still have to do my stupid tax return – like, yesterday. It totally must have slipped my mind!" He looked very contrite about his slip-up and ruffled the hair on the back of his head nervously.

"Really? That's too bad." Jill slapped his greedy hand away when it secretly tried to sneak over to her half-eaten peanut butter sandwich that laid peacefully on a porcelain plate next to her. His hand quickly pretended to look the other way when it got caught.

"Why don't you give her a call and tell her we'll come over some other time? We can have our bake-off sometime next week or whenever. There's still plenty of time before Christmas. No need to rush. The cookies won't bake themselves, you know." Jill grinned slyly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, perfectly. Now go, give her a call before she's cooked dinner for three. You know how much she hates cooking." With that, Jill shooed Chris out of the kitchen to make sure she could finish her sandwich in peace while he was on the phone.

Chris grabbed the cell phone from the coffee table and speed dialed Claire's number. Oddly enough, nobody picked up, so Chris assumed she was either still on the bus on her way home, busy with her preparations for dinner – or taking a dump._ She really should stop eating those damn burritos._ Wherever she was, he decided to leave her a message instead.

"Hey sis, it's me. Listen, Jill and me can't make it tonight – sorry. I have to do my tax return or I'll get into trouble. I promise I'll call again, let's meet this week or the next, whatever you prefer. Jill says hi by the way and not to worry about those cookies. Luv ya. Ta-"

_Peeeeep._

God, how he _hated_ that noise. His message got cut off right before he had the time to finish.

"Take care," he said to the dead phone line and the now empty room, even though nobody was listening. Chris snapped his phone shut and hoped that Claire wouldn't be too disappointed – but maybe she had been so busy that she would be happy about a little extra time all to herself.

Either way, he was going to steal that sandwich from Jill – or whatever was left of it. He snickered gleefully and rubbed his large palms together. She would never know what hit her.

* * *

When Wesker entered the lobby, two things caught his interest immediately: the impressive pool of drool under Krauser's stool (damn, that rhymed!) that he had to step over carefully, and the fact that the lamp Excella had had the janitor install in his lobby was shining brightly again. How curious! He was sure it had been malfunctioning for a while now, and he hadn't seen the janitor fix it.

He shrugged and focused his attention on Krauser, who was supposed to watch over Claire in his absence. Of course, Ada was still M.I.A. for the time being. Krauser obviously hadn't done a very good job in the meantime, since he had been "embellished" by Claire with a sharpie that she had found on a table in the lobby.

His face was now decorated with a fake black moustache that she had doodled on (and that bore an uncanny resemblance to Wesker's camouflage from earlier), as well as fake eyes that she had painted onto his closed eyelids in her boredom. Now she sat in a corner, arms crossed and sulking. She looked tired.

"Come."

Wesker curled his forefinger and turned around, not waiting to see if she'd follow. Krauser was left to drool in the lobby, smacking his lips in his sleep while he dreamt of a sandwich that had a surprising resemblance to a certain brunette woman he had never seen before.

Unwilling but out of options, Claire got up and followed her captor, who led her further into his private quarters – he liked to keep a close eye on "difficult" hostages like Claire. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, that sort of thing. At least that's what he kept telling himself, for lack of any other acceptable excuses.

He closed the door behind her, walked past his involuntary new roommate and spread his arms in a self-satisfied fashion.

"How do you like it?"

She looked around and then blinked in a completely clueless manner.

"Like what?"

"Your new bed."

"Ohhh, that! Um, it's a bit big for me…but it'll do." _But the bedspread is really not my style_, she thought, scrunching her nose. _I mean, seriously? Black shades allover on black sheets? Meh._

It took Wesker a moment to understand that she assumed she was going to sleep in his bed. His mouth went all dry for a moment. Had he run out of saliva again? _Dang it._ He made a mental note for his weekly shopping list.

"I hate to disappoint you, but you won't be sleeping in my bed…or sharing it with me." A lascivious smirk appeared on his face when he realized that she had turned a new shade of red (ferrari® red this time).

"Why not?" She hastily corrected herself. "I mean…where else am I supposed to sleep then?"

"Right over there." A black-gloved forefinger pointed toward the wall, where Quasimodo's dog bed stood between his spare shade dispenser and his spare spare shade dispenser.

"What? A dog bed? That's it?" She was boiling inside out of rage and balled her fists at her sides. Her knuckles were worried what might happen next – would they be rammed into Wesker's flawless visage or end up bouncing off his glorious abs of steel?

The punch they had been waiting for never came.

Wesker smiled condescendingly at Claire.

"That's right, you're my bitch now. Therefore, I have the perfect place for you to stay at during your…extended Christmas holidays." The crooked smile deepened when the pissed off look on Claire's face intensified.

"Objection!" She cried furiously. "I am _so_ not gonna stay here, let alone in a dog bed!" She turned another shade of red out of rage and shame (tomato red perhaps?) and stomped her foot on the helpless floor.

"Objection overruled. I'm sorry, dear…Claire, but beggars can't be choosers. It's that or the floor. Take it or leave it." Curiously, he waited to see if she would put up more of a fight or actually show some common sense for a change.

She huffed and puffed for a moment longer and then came to the conclusion that arguing wasn't going to get her anywhere. She'd just have to take what was offered and bear it.

"Fine!"

She stormed over to the tiny rattan bed and flopped down onto it. It was surprisingly soft, and her delicate backside was very grateful for that. She had to pull her knees up to her chest to fit inside the dog basket though.

"Want me to tuck you in?" He grinned cheekily, knowing that it would only serve to annoy her even further.

"Pah!"

She threw herself around in her new bed and presented Wesker with her scrumptious backside, determined to sleep it off.

Too bad that she had turned toward the wall in her desperate attempt at ignoring him, otherwise she wouldn't have missed the glorious display of Wesker getting ready for bed – stark naked. Well, except for his shades of course. He snapped his fingers and the lights turned off.

Claire found that she couldn't fall asleep – it was the foreign surroundings, her new and completely unexpected situation as a hostage in general – and the fact that she missed Albie, terribly so. What would he think if she didn't come home tonight? Would he miss her, worry about her?

She just hoped that Jill would take good care of Albie in her absence once Chris realized that his little sister was missing, for Wesker knew what would happen if Albie was left to look after himself. He didn't even know how to cook or even sort through the mail, dammit! She had missed the opportunity to teach him these important things in time.

Mesmerized by the memory of her buzzy little bed fellow who was probably desperately awaiting her at home, Claire felt herself getting sleepy. Curled up next to Quasimodo's squeaky chewing bone (that turned out to be nowhere near as cuddly as Albie), she silently counted in her head. _One little Albie, two little Albies, three little Albies…_

Before the fourth little Albie had even the chance to jump over the imaginary fence in her mind, Claire was snoozing already, only a few feet away from her mortal enemy.

* * *

_**Please read, subscribe & review!**_


	6. Day 2

**9 1/2 days**

_**Disclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Capcom (except Albie and Quasimodo). But oh how I wish Wesker belonged to me._

**Day 2**

**

* * *

**

Wesker took a well-deserved hot shower that turned the bathroom all Silent Hill (if less invaded by monsters) within just a few minutes. He happily hummed Monty Python's "always look on the bright side of life" tune while taking the time to scrub his trusty shades clean with a manly bath pouf.

It had been a great morning so far – Claire was still sound asleep and hadn't had the time to bother him yet. Little did he know that she had dreamt some crazy, confusing stuff about him being an elegant black-clad torero with a rose between his teeth, waving Ada's red dress in front of Chris...who looked suspiciously like a horny, raging bull. She had spent the better part of that dream though trying to figure out whether Ada was running around stark naked in the meantime – or maybe even flashing Leon! – while Wesker had borrowed her practical yet disguising bright red spy attire to toy with her brother.

He himself on the other hand had slept surprisingly well, considering that the creature from his worst nightmares, namely the Redfield girl, was sleeping just a few feet away in Quasimodo's dog bed – as if he subconsciously knew that his suffering was only taking a short break before the shit-storm would hit the fan.

One incredibly lucky bitch of a piece of soap slid over his steaming, hot skin and all the body parts and organs _that_ enclosed when Wesker finally began scrubbing himself instead of his stylish shades. The tiny cleansing bar was totally oblivious of the fact that it was being envied by pretty much every living human being in heat and existence. No, really! It had absolutely no clue whatsoever. Blame it on the fact that it had never seen the internet before, let alone knew how to look up adultfanfiction dot net.

But, it foamed like crazy at the fact that Wesker hadn't even paid any attention to it – let alone asked for its name or even permission before he began. And now it had all kinds of hairy situations to face – literally. The unhappy little bar of soap felt so used, and all Wesker did in his ignorance was musing over the latest developments while scrubbing and rubbing even harder down there.

Our foamy friend got really scared, too, when he was unlucky enough to find out that Wesker had the will - and means! - to firmly hold it in place without even having to use his hands, teeth, knees or armpits. You do the math. Truly, it had seen unimaginable places no man had ever set foot on, let alone any other limb – pathfinder had absolutely nothing to him.

It shuddered violently in revulsion for a moment, and for a minute there Wesker almost thought he'd forgotten to take his cell phone out of the back of his pants, when he remembered he wasn't even wearing any pants to begin with. As was the custom, whenever he showered.

While a poor orphaned piece of soap was silently cursing its harsh, cruel fate, Wesker's mind was on his work and how smoothly it had been progressing lately, thanks to a certain bimbo's absence.

Excella had been gone for weeks now to pursue a side-career in a vacation job that would hopefully pay for her latest boob-job. What did she need bigger jugs for anyway? It wasn't like she owned a single dress to cover up even _half_ of the pair she already possessed as it was, so why bother if she couldn't afford a proper dress in the first place? He'd never understand this woman. But at least no one was pawing all over him while he was trying to get his experiments done. Life was good. Almost bearable.

He was just one Complete. Global. Vegetation. away from being a happy little tyrant.

No. Wait. That didn't sound right…try again.

_Complete. Global. Frustration._

No, no, no...something was still amiss.

_Complete. Global. Constipation.  
_

Yeah, that sounded about right. He smiled smugly at this stunning proof of his superior intellect. He was just too damn clever for this world.

Satisfied with himself, he turned off the water and put his shades back on. With a sucking _sluuurp_ they greedily adhered to his temples until the next time he'd have to take them off.

In the little dish it called home, the sad remains of a formerly proud soap bar secretly sighed in relief. _Thank Wesker! Good riddance…_he had stopped just in time - one more day to live for our spent, soapy little friend.

The tyrant stepped out of the shower, offering _way_ too much fan service to be healthy for all the depraved fangirls and fanboys on his way to the towel rack. The rack didn't mind at all and enjoyed the view while it lasted.

Unfortunately, Wesker got himself and his godly goods wrapped into a fluffy, stark black towel way too fast for any human eye – or that of a sex-starved towel rack. Disappointed about missing its chance, it blinked - desperately wishing for instant replay in slo-mo, but it had no such luck.

_Fat chance._

Meanwhile, Wesker was completely ignorant of his quiet, towel dispensing admirer – and had he known, he wouldn't have cared since he was already planning out the remainder of the day. Thoughtfully, he combed through his already perfect hair.

_Okay, let's see…get dressed, make sure Miss Redfield doesn't do another bad make-up job on Krauser, have Krauser take Quasimodo out for a walk, keep Claire out of my lap, err, I mean lab…oh, and most importantly, keep the redhead the hell out of my way. _Mentally, he added sending Ada to retrieve a gag or something to his list, just to be safe - in case Claire got too talkative for her own good.

In case of an emergency before Ada got back, he could always use a pair of socks or something like that. He'd have to ask Krauser to hand him over the pair of tennis socks he always stuffed his pants with – because that _had_ to be a pair of socks, right?

He sighed deeply. This was going to be a hard, long, work-filled day. Little did he know that things were about to get much harder and longer from here on out - and not just from wishful thinking.

* * *

In the meantime, Ada, Krauser and Claire were sitting in Wesker's lobby getting ready for the day. Claire didn't have much in terms of plans aside from staying alive at the moment. She had woken up shortly before, all stiff and with seriously bad hair from her night in the rattan bed. The humming coming from the bathroom indicated that Wesker was taking a hot shower, as was the fog flowing in from under the bathroom door.

She was grateful not having to deal with him right away, not before she had her morning coffee or some other horrible tasting brew to chase away the last remainders of a long, uncomfortable night. Her mouth felt like something had died in there last night anyway.

For the moment she distracted herself with looking through her shopping bags that Wesker and his goons had thankfully brought along. Disappointedly, she noticed that all the ants from Chris' ant farm had obviously gone AWOL through a small crack in the glass. She set the glass box aside to noisily rummage through the rest of her belongings.

Krauser was sitting on a leather sofa in the corner, arms and legs crossed. Finally, his yoga classes were beginning to pay off - but mainly, he was busy sulking and giving Claire the evil eye for his involuntary makeover the other night. The sharpie markings were still clearly visible on his face even though he had scrubbed his face like crazy this morning. He had shortly considered using sandpaper, but quickly dismissed it.

He might be enduring the presence of tartly Ada over there and then some without complaining, but even _his_ masochism knew boundaries he wasn't ready to challenge. It didn't help much that Ada couldn't stifle a giggle when she first saw what Claire had done to him in his sleep. She grinned unashamedly when Krauser gave her a look that would hopefully make her drop dead on the spot, even though he knew better.

Ada sat on the sofa across from him, switched on the large flat screen tv set on the wall and surfed through the channels, looking for a way to pass the time until their boss decided to show up. After zapping through a few boring infomercials that she came across – she cleverly noticed how Krauser leaned forward and seemed particularly interested in a brand-new nose hair trimmer that was being introduced – she happened to come across the local news channel.

By accident, Ada had switched to the news channel just in time for the news anchor to announce the news about some mysterious, disturbing panic breaking out in the mall the evening before after people were being probed by unauthorized and unqualified ants.

Ada and Krauser both turned their heads and looked accusingly at Claire.

"What?" She looked confused, not getting what both were hinting at. She pressed her shopping bag protectively against her chest.

"You don't happen to know anything about this…right?" Krauser asked slowly, his eyes wandering to the now vacant ant farm next to Claire's feet.

"Who is to say that these were my ants? They could belong to anyone…it's not like they had dog tags with my name around their necks, is it?" Claire defended herself weakly.

"Yeah, but only because they couldn't find tags small enough to fit around their necks." Ada commented dryly.

Claire shot her a dirty look through narrowed eyes.

The next bit of news about the "ant incident" though caught their interest again, and the discussion between the three of them ebbed away.

The news anchor had given way to a report from the dolled up news reporter on site. The overdressed brunette stood next to a somewhat disheveled looking man, probably a hobo. The unshaved bum held something in his hand and seemed very antsy and eager to present it to the camera.

"This is Amanda Hooker for Good News Net. I'm here at the local mall where a panic broke out the other day after a sudden breakout of vermin. Authorities are still investigating the source of attack of a horde of rabid ants."

The man beside her seemed to get impatient and tried to push his way into the focus of the camera. Slightly annoyed, the reporter pushed him back aside with her left arm and continued. Unfazed by his attempt to let his 15 seconds of fame begin, she rambled about the fruitless attempts that had been made to find out more about why and where the eight-legged army had come from.

Finally, after a long, long monologue that had the hobo almost pee his pants in excitement and frustration, she presented the man next to her as a possible witness of the incident. Overjoyed that he was finally being heard, the man held up what looked like a burnt piece of toast.

Before the reporter even had the chance to ask him any questions, he eagerly grabbed a hold of her microphone (even though she refused to let it go) and told his version of what had happened.

"You see, I was sittin' in that diner across the mall having a snack, thinkin' about nuffin' bad an' all, and then shit started. First there was nothing and then there were all these peeps who came runnin' out of the mall, screaming like their pants were on fire or sumfin'. I thought that maybe these lucky bastards had a chili eating contest in there or sumfin', so I thought about goin' over to see if there was sumfin' left for me."

He took a deep, dramatic breath, readying himself for his big finale.

"But then there were these three strange lookin' people comin' out of the mall." He stopped for a moment to increase the impact of the info he gave and squinted his eyes in a conspiratorial manner. "They had a pink suitcase with a cat on it, and something was moving in there. I saw it! It was a woman and two men. One of them guys had a strange looking moustache that looked like my girlfriend's muff." He offered an amused cackle that quickly gave way to a coughing fit.

The reporter patted the bum on his back and tried to use the situation to gain control over her microphone again, but the man caught himself and held the piece of toast a bit higher.

"This is what the fella looked like – I saw him again this morning, in the diner – he appeared on my toast just as I was getting' ready to butter it!"

Ada and Krauser both shot to their feet – Krauser stumbling in the process because he couldn't disentangle his limbs in time.

"Holy Wesker toast!" Ada, Krauser and Claire cried in perfect unison when the camera zoomed in on the sacred piece of roasted bread showing the mug of a certain handsome blond badass tyrant. The resemblance was stunning, including that of Wesker's borrowed pornstache.

They all exchanged an uncomfortable look.

Wesker _so_ wasn't going to like this.

* * *

Babysitting Claire was so _incredibly_ boring. Why couldn't someone else do it? Ada had been condemned to watching over the hostage while Wesker took care of the "toast situation". Now the brat just sat a few feet away from Ada on a pile of red-and-white Umbrella cushions that she had picked up from the couch in Wesker's lobby.

The redhead was eagerly watching "Shaun of the Dead" from Wesker's private dvd collection and greedily munched on some unsuspecting nachos - the red-clad spy had gotten her some food and entertainment after Claire had complained about being bored and hungry. _She's been here for less than a day and she's already a pain in my backside_, Ada thought sourly.

Ada had better things to do, but after some back and forth arguing she had lost a game of "rock, paper, scissors" against Krauser and Wesker. She was almost sure both Wesker and Krauser had cheated - of course she would never say that aloud, at least not when Wesker was within throwing distance and Krauser out with Quasimodo.

Shaking her head, Ada lazily paged through her latest issue of "Ammolicious", not really paying attention to the articles. That was, until she almost chocked on a mouthful of some fine but totally overpriced "jus de fromage" wine that she'd been sipping casually while reading her magazine.

The picture next to a promising article called "my pet weapon and me" in her lap showed the face of a certain well-known dirty blond hunk - without his recently acquired fake bogey trap.

_Krauser!_

The renegade former army beefcake was wearing nothing but a smile…and a rocket launcher, all while wearing a tiny beret on his not so little mercenary that left little to the imagination. Ada's jaw fell southwards with an audible gasp. Her eyes seemed to almost pop out of their sockets. By use of sheer willpower – and some well-applied pressure of her two forefingers - she commanded them back inside.

_Jackpot!_ her inner voice cackled hysterically. _Forget about that fancy snob Kennedy_, it whispered seductively. _Jackie-boy here might not be so bad after all…who would have thought? He's full of surprises - not to mention fully equipped, loaded and ready to go._

Slowly, she rolled her tongue back up inside her mouth before anybody could notice – or even worse, stumble over the fleshy, pink appendage. The sneaky little beast had indeed quickly realized its chance and gone on a short stroll in a futile attempt at escaping.

She tucked the magazine into her armpit and rose to her feet.

"Be a good girl and stay out of trouble, okay?"

Ada waved good-bye to a very surprised Claire who remained sitting on the floor, surrounded by Wesker's octagonal cushions of doom.

"Where are you going?"

"That is for me to know and for you to keep guessing. I need to take care of…stuff. Don't wait up. Tell Wesker I'll be in touch. Ta ta!"

Clair remained sitting on the floor, stunned and clueless.

What the heck had that been all about?

* * *

_**Author's note: Please read, subscribe & most importantly: review! The more reviews, the sooner I update...  
**_


End file.
